An Affair of Poisons(58)

We retreat to the far corner of the millinery—me, Desgrez, and Mirabelle crouched behind the counter. Gasping. Trembling. Waiting for fire to engulf the shop or for the beast’s massive weight to buckle the stairs leading to the door. The seconds pass. Droplets of blood leak from Mirabelle’s neck and speckle the dusty ground. Eventually the scraping resumes—moving distinctly away.

We rush to the window as the beast’s spiked tail vanishes around the corner of the rue de Navarine. Desgrez releases a breath and crumples against the wall. I grip the windowsill for support. But Mirabelle races to the door and knocks the chair aside.

“No, no, no,” she mutters.

“You can’t run from me,” Desgrez says. “I’ll easily overtake you.”

“You are the least of my concerns,” she says. Then she bangs out the door and flies down the street. Chasing after a beast made of smoke and flame and nightmare. Running, most assuredly, to her death.





17



MIRABELLE


There’s only one reason the smoke beast would retreat. Only one reason it wouldn’t destroy the millinery, and the entire city, if Lesage has set them free.

Mother wants to capture us alive—so she can make a bloody, public display of the royals’ execution and my punishment—and Lesage’s creatures are her hunting hounds, sent to sniff us out.

I grip an iron garden fence, propel myself around the corner, and tear down the winding street. The creature moves like an azure wave. Its spiked tail bobs and flashes like lanterns in the moonlight, and its slitlike ears swivel, listening to my footsteps. But it never turns to blast me with its fiery breath. Confirming my suspicion.

I fist my petticoats and will my feet to move faster. Each breath cuts through my lungs like a scythe, and icy waves of fear crash through my limbs, but the pain is nothing, nothing, compared to the look on Josse’s face when I confessed. How his eyes widened with horror. How he recoiled in absolute disgust. As if I’m a monster.

Maybe I am.

I did terrible, unforgivable things. Things I can’t change. But I can stop the smoke beast from reaching the Louvre and revealing our location to Lesage.

I will stop it.

We tear around another corner. Window coverings flutter and candles flicker to life as we fly past, but not a soul ventures into the street to help. They saw what the creatures are capable of during the procession, and I’m glad they stay away. Fewer innocent lives on my conscience.

I lengthen my stride and summon a final burst of speed, but the beast is faster still. It pulls ahead, snorting as the Louvre comes into view along the riverbank.

If I don’t stop it now, I never will.

Desperate, I heft a pitchfork from a hay cart on the roadside, aim the tines at the smoke beast, and heave with all my might, sending a silent prayer with my makeshift spear. The tool is heavier than I’d thought and my aim is far from perfect, but the steel teeth manage to nick the creature’s hind leg. It whirls around and blasts the cobbles with fire. I slam to a halt a hair’s breadth from the scorched stones and roll to the side, narrowly avoiding a second strike.

The beast dives toward me, shaking the ground beneath my boots, shaking every quivering bone in my body. Its golden eyes lock on my frame and a scream burbles up my throat. I cast around for a weapon, an idea. Anything.

Think, Mira!

The river’s to my left. I could lure it to the water. Beasts that spit fire shouldn’t take kindly to water. Or I could run right, toward one of the armories. If the beast’s flames ignite the gunpowder, the explosion might kill it.

And half a block of innocent souls!

The creature hisses and stretches up to its full height. Its noxious breath pours over me like scalding water. I veer to the left. Not fast enough. Fire claws at my dress, and I curse myself yet again for not rendering Lesage’s blood draught so I could control the monsters as well. Pain burns up my leg, but a second later it’s gone. Arms wrap around my chest and drag me to the street. We roll into the gutter, my skirts sizzling as the dreck douses the flames.

“Are you insane?” Josse shouts.

“You followed me.” I blink up at him, not certain he’s real.

“A little help!” Desgrez bellows. He’s dodging in and out of doorways across the street, stabbing wildly at the beast between bursts of fire.

Without looking at me, Josse pushes to his feet and comes at the beast from behind. He removes a dagger from his boot and manages to sink it into the smoke beast’s left hind leg. The creature screams and spins around. Its mace-like tail splinters through a wooden pillar, nearly beheading Desgrez.

“On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t help.” Desgrez ducks behind a crate, and Josse streaks across the road to join him.

Panting, I push up to my knees and gather rocks into my skirt. Then I hunker behind a vegetable cart and toss the stones at the smoke beast. When it turns to snarl at me, Josse and Desgrez leap from their hiding places and slash at its legs and neck. They manage a few decent blows, their faces and tunics covered in a spray of thick black blood, but the creature catches on. The next time I hurl my rocks, it swivels the other way and knocks Desgrez’s blade from his hand. The rapier spins into the road, and when Josse tries to grab it, the smoke beast nearly sets his hand aflame.

Exhausted and unarmed, Josse and Desgrez hunker behind the wooden pillars that hold the half-timbered houses aloft. The beast rears back and draws a snarling breath. It’s going to incinerate them—and the house too. I dart forward, pebbles falling from my skirt, and run at the creature, screaming.